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“Don’t stop, please. Please, don’t stop.”

“Whose pussy is this?” I growl as darkness eases into the edges of my vision. I’m so close and can’t last much longer.

“Yours.”

“And who am I?” I smack her thigh and fill her sex, smashing into her cervix.

“Fuck,” she moans. “You’re my filthy professor.”

“That’s it. That’s a good girl. Now tell me what you like.” Sweat pours down my forehead, stinging my eyes.

“I love your cock slamming into me.”

“Like this?” I plunge to the hilt as her fingernails claw at the wall.

“Fuck! Yes! Please, oh God, don’t stop.”

“That’s it, baby, be a good girl and get my cock all filthy with your cum.”

“Oh!!!!” She rotates her hips in a circle, grinding her ass into my body and taking what she needs

“Yes, that’s it.” I put one arm around her waist and hold her to me like a vice.

“Yes! Yes! Yeeesssss.” She pushes back into me as her walls clench and pulsate over my cock.

“That’s it. Such a dirty cunt.” I smack her ass and thrust forward, holding her tight as I spill my seed deep inside her with five minutes to spare.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Alexander

The Next Week

As I pull into my parent’s circular drive, there is a row of other vehicles lined up along the sidewalk leading up to the front door. Each car is spotless, freshly waxed, and high-end. Leave it to my parents to set a dinner party and forget to mention it. Their desire to entertain does not mesh with mine.

After pulling into a spot, I shut off the engine. I hate these types of events. Especially one everyone failed to mention.

I lock the doors and walk to the steep stairs that lead to the front door. While it might not be a mansion, my parent’s place is large and lavish.

The second I hover my finger over the doorbell, the butler snatches open the door. Mr. Westbrook, the bald-headed man who’s been with them for several years, nods. “Evening, Mr. Taylor. It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you, Mark.” The foyer is empty. “Where’s everyone?”

“Dining room.”

“Was this a planned dinner?” The evening sun shifts lower, placing the hallway in shadows.

His face is devoid of emotion. “By what do you mean, planned?”

I chuckle and shake my head. His devotion to being professional is one of my favorite things about him. “I take that to mean you were thrown into planning something last minute, and you’re too much of a professional to speak ill of your employer. So, I’ll do it for you.”

His face remains devoid of emotion, even though his eyes dance with humor.

Maybe when I take over the company, he’ll decide he wants to work for me. Will Daisy want a butler and a cook? Mr. and Mrs. Westbrook come as a package deal. We’ll have to discuss the specifics of living together, but with only six weeks, remaining it’s something we need to discuss.

“I have no comment, sir.” He shuts the door.

“Well played, Mark. I’ve always loved your discretion. What’s the celebration for?”


Tags: Alexia Chase Romance